


unlikely pairing

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [109]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Fluff, M/M, Not Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Compliant, Post-Canon, mostly just, they're both such SAPS lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 07:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21194105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: “Doctor Geiszler?” one of the students asks, wide-eyed, “are you okay?”“Y—yeah, I’m fine,” he says, and shivers. “Ugh, I need to talk to someone about the AC in here…”“You dropped something,” another points out; points to the ground in front of Newt.He looks down; the metal chain glints in the LED lighting. “Oh,” he says, and picks it up, fastening it around his neck. “Thanks, Sam. My husband wouldkillme if I lost it,” he laughs.





	unlikely pairing

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt: Newt and Hermann are both college professors at the same university. They both speak about their husband all the time. But their descriptions are so different than their public personas that still no one has any idea they're talking about each other."

Newt wears it on a chain around his neck; tight enough that it doesn’t dangle much, for fear of entanglement or endangerment during a lab, but loose enough that it’s not uncomfortable, the metal of the band catching the light when he pops the top buttons on his collar.

Hermann, as is traditional, wears it on his ring finger; smiles fondly whenever Newt reminds him of it.

“You put it there,” he says; “I’m not taking it off, Newton.”

“You _sap,_” Newt shoots back; grins, a touch, and squeezes his hand.

Hermann hums and takes a bite of his toast. “Your tie is crooked,” he comments absently; finishes off his toast and stands. Newt stands with him, stills as he reaches to adjust the skinny black tie. “There,” he says, and smiles.

“Thanks, dude,” Newt says; smiles back. “You’re the best. See you at eight?”

“I’ll put bread-sticks on,” Hermann confirms, and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Don’t terrorise the students too much, Newton.”

“I’d never!” Newt protests. “They love me!” Hermann gives him a flat look; Newt sighs. “Okay, fine,” he says, “I won’t ‘terrorise’ the students.”

He doesn’t.

Much.

Just, you know, sometimes he forgets that he _can’t_ do the same things in the classroom that he can in a lab; hence the reason he’s dripping wet and wearing a set of clothes dug up from the bottom of his desk drawers after an impromptu decontamination shower halfway through the last lesson.

The students, at least, don’t seem too upset about getting to leave early.

The next batch of students, however, have to deal with a blue-lipped, wet-haired Newt, who’s wearing something that may once have been a sweater and a pair of home-made jorts.

“Doctor Geiszler?” one of the students asks, wide-eyed, “are you okay?”

“Y—yeah, I’m fine,” he says, and shivers. “Ugh, I need to talk to someone about the AC in here…”

“You dropped something,” another points out; points to the ground in front of Newt.

He looks down; the metal chain glints in the LED lighting. “Oh,” he says, and picks it up, fastening it around his neck. “Thanks, Sam. My husband would _kill_ me if I lost it,” he laughs.

A murmur ripples through the seated students; some pick their heads up off of the desks. “Husband?” someone in the back questions. “You have a _husband?_”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Love him—he’s the _best._ Total dork, and he makes a mean pumpkin pie to boot—” he checks his watch. “Okay, enough of that—time to get onto the _actual_ lesson stuff…”

* * *

Lunch, as usual, is taken in Hermann’s office; Newt eats a pb&j while Hermann cuts his own sandwich into pieces, spearing each bite with his fork, the bright green of lettuce disappearing in a trice.

They get into an argument first about the sweater (it’s Hermann’s, apparently), then about kaiju cloning before Hermann finishes eating; storm out of the room and shout at each other in the hallway.

“—well _you_ are an idiotic, self-absorbed—!”

“—moron who fucking worships math—!” Newt shouts back; fists clenched.

Hermann’s beet-red—face all purple and splotchy, and he opens his mouth to keep shouting, only to be cut off by a stern, “_Doctors!_”

They both turn; Newt gives a half-attempt at an innocent smile, but Doctor Smith just stares at him flatly. “You’re blocking the hallway,” she says, “and causing a disruption.”

“Apologies,” Hermann mutters, and turns on his heel, walking away.

Newt raises his chin. “Sorry,” he says, with a glare after Hermann, and calls, “you’re _wrong,_ for the record, Hermann!”

“I am _not!_” Hermann shouts back.

“_Geiszler!_” Doctor Smith snaps.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Newt huffs.

* * *

“The students spent the lesson pestering me about my husband,” Hermann informs him over dinner, a few months later.

Newt hums. “You mean you started talking about me and they were, naturally, curious as to what sort of man could have captured the heart of _the_ Doctor Gottlieb?” he teases. Hermann’s ears redden.

“Hush up, you,” he mumbles. “And for the record, Newton, that is _not_ what happened. Someone noticed my ring, is all.”

“…the ring you’ve worn for the last four years,” Newt says; raises a brow. “Sure, man, whatever you say.”

“I—!” Hermann splutters; throws up his hands. “You are truly awful,” he says.

“But you love me anyway,” Newt shoots back.

“Against my better judgement—yes,” Hermann sniffs.

* * *

There’s shouting, suddenly, from outside; Hermann pulls his door open. Students rush down the hallway outside; pull him along until, finally, he ends up in the centre of a crowd outside; the sirens of an ambulance loud in his ears.

“Excuse me?” he calls, “sorry—what’s going on?” he shouts.

“It’s Doctor Geiszler,” someone says. “He’s been in an accident—”

Hermann’s gaze goes black for a split second. “Newton?” he shouts; desperate; shoves people aside. “Let me through—let me through, damn it, that’s my _husband!_”

The throng of people parts, and he staggers through; rushes to Newt’s side, grips his shoulder. “Newton!” he gasps; relief crashing upon him when the other’s eyes flicker and he gives a moan of pain.

“Jesus,” he hisses, “lighten up on that side, will you, Herms? That hurts.”

“Sorry.” Hermann snatches his hand away; swallows. Newton shifts slightly on the stretcher.

(He remembers, suddenly, so clearly that it’s almost as if he’s there again, Newton whirling around on him after a meeting with Marshal Pentecost. “What were you _doing?_” he hisses. “Why’d you shoot me down? We both know my ideas are sound, Hermann—you could _help me—_”

“Trying to _save_ you from—”

“From _what?_” Newt barks, “myself? Because the only solution to _that,_ Hermann, is to let me _die—_I’m never going to stop throwing myself at things head-first, alright? Because that’s the only way I can get things to work!”

He spins on his heel; stomps away down the hall.

Hermann comes in the four days later to find him hooked up to a Drift-interface machine built from stolen scraps; holds him tight to his chest, tears streaming down his face, as he seizes.)

“Are you alright?” he asks, instead; the fear still sour on his tongue, bile rising in his throat. “Are you—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Newton interrupts; reaches out to clasp Hermann’s hand. “I’m fine, Herms, I swear, okay? It’s all good, alright?”

“Sorry,” Hermann says again; lets out a shuddering breath. “I just—”

“I know,” Newt says, “it’s alright, man. I just took a little spill and dislocated my shoulder, I’m fine, I swear.”

“I hate you,” Hermann breathes; shakily; presses a palm to Newton’s cheek, soft; “don’t ever do that to me again, alright?”

Newton gives a small smile. “I’ll try not to,” he says. “Now c'mon, dude, help get me up.”

“The ambulance—”

“There was a car-crash down the street,” Newt says. “And the stretcher’s from the room next-door. They do a nursing program.”

“Ah,” Hermann says; and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Also,” Newton says, “you kinda just told everyone we’re married,” and watches smugly as Hermann blushes and splutters.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [harrowwharks](https://harrowwharks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
